|
Post by Einar on Feb 2, 2019 14:36:23 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: July 29, 2551
with Aoibhe as Iliara
Jonathan took a deep breath in through his nose and blew it out his lips, before taking a long sip of Raktajino. The sun was coming up, lighting up the smog of the city below, the bustling of street vendors and delivery vans audible from the streets below.
He looked over his shoulder, towards the bedroom where Iliria still slept, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. For a moment he felt affection towards his companion, but gently shook it off.
He had come here to die, or to live. He hadn’t been sure of one or the other until now…..there was unfinished business. Grievances and old debts, and somewhere out there was the key to restoring Earth….he could die once that mission was complete. Until then, he didn’t need to change.
He had a plan, and he needed to sell it to the good guys.
In the bedroom, Iliria stirred and mumbled something incoherent. She twisted, sighed and stretched luxuriously.
“I love this bed,” she purred, rubbing her sleepy eyes and focussing on Rome’s back through the doorway. She pulled herself reluctantly into a slouch, wrapping the thin blanket around her skinny frame. “What’s got you dressed all fancy?” she asked, wondering at his startlingly black clothing.
Jonathan turned to look at her, briefly admiring her bare shoulders. He took another sip of Rak before placing the mug back on the kitchen counter “Leave’s up”.
“Up?” she asked, confusion knitting her young brow. She noticed, now that he’d turned around, that his face was shaven. Everything suddenly felt very different. “Are we going somewhere?” she asked tentatively.
He sighed and turned to face her, his head held high and shoulders squared “I have a mission to complete, and I’ve stayed here too long already”
“Oh.” she replied, her eyeline dropping as she thought through her sleep fog.
“...oh,” she repeated as a reluctant understanding dawned. She pulled her knees close to her chest and hugged them with her bare arms as she sat on the bed. “So… last night was all I get.”
Jonathan blew air through his nostrils before stepping across the small living area, towards the bedroom door, stopping by its frame. “What else could you possibly want? I have paid you generously for the past weeks”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly, scrabbling to catch up. Her young head was spinning. “I just thought…” she shook her head. Last night he’d finally given in to her charms and after so long a wait she’d felt triumphant. “I thought we’d have time for a little more fun before you had to go…” she admitted. She swung her bare legs out of the bed and stood up, the blanket draped loosely around her like a grecian statue. “Do we.. have time…?” she asked, sidling slowly in his direction.
Jonathan smiled sadly as he stepped forward to put a hand on the back of her head, holding onto her hair gently before speaking “I would like that...but unfortunately, for me, time is running out”.
“So…” she said, her voice soft and close, “the man who can’t die has run out of time…”
Jonathan smirked before letting go of her hair, letting his fingers run down the side of her head and down her arm, before stepping back. “It’s complicated”
“If it ever gets a little less complicated, love, maybe look me up again,” she turned and padded back to the bed. She discarded the blanket in a flourish and went in search of her clothes. “I’d like to say you were worth the wait, but…” she looked over her bare shoulder towards him, “...it was a very long wait.”
Jonathan averted his gaze, giving her the illusion of privacy “Who knows what the future holds”. He walked to the side of the bed, picking up a golden delta and placing it on his chest. “I wanted to thank you actually”.
She paused, her skirt on and her thin, tight top bundled in her arms.
“You listened”
Pride warmed to a glow on her face and a slight smile curled the corners of her lips. She pulled on her top and took in the sight of him. He was utterly altered from the man who she’d encountered less than a fortnight previously.
“You’re welcome.”
He beeped, or his communicator did.
“That’s me” he said, matter of factly as he turned around and headed out of the bedroom.
She suddenly didn’t quite know what to do with her arms.
“What will you do now?” he asked, his back to her.
“Probably find another sad old man and give them a reason to live too.” She chided gently.
Jon harrumphed and she could see his shoulder rise and fall, if she didn’t know any better she would suspect him of laughter.
“I put this place in your name. It’s fully paid off, and there’s a few thousand credits in a chip by the bed...I won’t be using it”
Her eyes widened, shining suddenly. Her gaze flicked for a moment to the bed. Her bed. She loved that bed. Then she looked back to him. “Thank you...” she struggled to find the words to express her gratitude, unaccustomed to doing so as she was. “Now you’ll know where to find me if… you know.”
He turned back to face her, ignoring the suggestion, his face grim and determined “I won’t tell you what to do with your life, but if this helps. Don’t go back to him”
“I’ll do what I want,” she informed him, putting a hand on her hip. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, no-one does now.” As she said the words the truth of it suddenly dawned. ... I don’t have to do anything… for anyone anymore… She blinked. Wow.
“That sounds about right”. He smiled briefly, then tapped the delta symbol on his chest “This is Rome, one to transport”
She watched as at first nothing happened and for the briefest of moments she doubted his sanity and the veracity of his gift. Then, imperceptibly at first a golden shimmer surrounded him and before long engulfed him. She blinked against the growing light and when she opened her eyes again he'd disappeared entirely.
She remained still for a beat, stunned by what he'd given her, then impulsively she threw herself bodily onto the bed and squealed, curling up in the blanket and burying her face in the mound of pillows. For now, imagining owning the entire apartment was too much, too emotional. So, instead, she focused on how good it felt to own a bed. She'd work up to the rest later.
------
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Conference Room Sixteen
Date: July 30, 2551
“How is he?”
Forral stopped biting his nails and looked across the conference table at his counterpart. “He seems….more focused. At first I believed it was a facadé of sorts, but the tests we have run confirm lower levels of cortisol and adrenaline, and he just seems more ..”
“Focused?”
Forral furrowed his brow “you try coming up with words to describe that man”
Heather put down her tea and stared across the table at the counselor “Determined, driven, single minded, goal oriented…”
“Yeah yeah, all that” Foral interjected, grabbing his own cup of coffee.
Heather smirked as she stood up and faced the monitor, showing the insides of Rome’s quarters where he sat, reading from a PADD in his living room. “You’re saying he’s finally back to normal?”
“What is normal?” Foral asked with a shrug. “He’s healthy. Not showing the normal signs of PTSD, at least not currently”.
"About time" She turned back to face the counselor, resting her palms on the cool table “We recruited him because of his reputation during the Second Tzenkethi war, Foral. And if what you are telling me is true, that pathetic excuse we rescued over one year ago has now proven himself worthy”
“Sure, I guess”
She smiled and sat down again “He’s asked to meet me, says he has a plan to help restore Earth. An informant that could tell us something”
Foral merely nodded, finishing off his coffee “Focused. What do we do about the girl?”
“How much did he share with her?”
Foral read from a PADD “His autobiography, according to our ground team”
“Anything confidential?”
“Plenty, but most of the information is unactionable…..should we terminate her?”
Heather hesitated, weighing the option and risk of leaving her alive.
“Yes... but wait a few weeks then make it look like an overdose of some sort. Better not upset the Captain, we're gonna want to keep him on our side"
|
|
Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
|
Post by Rascal on Feb 6, 2019 18:16:19 GMT
|
|
|
Post by Einar on May 10, 2019 16:54:48 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Conference Room One
Date: August 5, 2551
"You are joking right?"
"Raktajino, double strong, double cream"
The coffee mug materialized on the table infront of him in a purple haze, "No"
Heather leaned back in her leather chair, nursing her classic mint tea. "He has been thuroughly debriefed in his own time, I don´t know what else you think you can get from him"
Jonathan sipped his coffee as he leant back, crossing his legs. "I know you know everything about me, so you know that him and me, we have history....and that man knew every single piece of information that was worth a damn"
"So did Control, and there was nothing in that database that could help us" she added, swiping her hand to bring up a holographic display, showing the whole linear existence of the target. "Plus, we already checked and Section 31 were definitely not players in this after they lost their only prototype in 2258"
"I don´t care about Section 31, I care about what he knew....and I just feel it, he can help us find the missing piece"
"Why do you think he would agree to help you? I thought he wanted you dead"
Jonathan smirked "because he´ll have no choice this time, if he wants do live"
Heather´s brow furrowed as she waved the display away and placed the mug on the table "You can´t interfere in his timeline, he dies when he dies, don´t you even think about killing that man before his expiry point"
"I wasn´t planning to....I have the whole operation planned out, just listen.."
----------
"It´s a surprise, I never expected him to take charge like this" the voice said over the comm. Heather had never seen him or spoken to him in person, she didn´t even know his name. Too much of a security risk they had said.
"I think his plan has merits, but I´m afraid he´ll do something rash....from what we know, he hates Dixon"
"Oh, that´s abundantly clear. But I think it´s worth a shot....he was notoriously knowledgeable in his life, after all.....the operation is approved,....but send a senior agent with him, someone to keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn´t upset the timestream"
"Yes sir....we don´t have many seniors available at the moment, there´s a situation in the Delta Quadrant that needs clean up ....what about Daniels?"
"No, he´s currently in Detroit, circa 2004 on a mission from the 31st century outpost....we might need him later"
Heather nodded only at that, knowing not to ask follow up questions to matters above her paygrade "We can always send her with him....a familiar-ish face? You think he can handle it?"
For a while there was only comm silence before the distorted voice responded "I think that´s a great idea....make it happen"
|
|
|
Post by aoibheni on May 10, 2019 21:11:25 GMT
::squeeeeeeeee!::
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Jul 14, 2019 16:24:00 GMT
Location: U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701, Sector 001, Alpha Quadrant
Date: 6 December, 2273
Jonathan moved cautiously around the newly installed warp core, the bulky white hazard suit making it difficult for him to move around with any grace as he pretended to carry out scheduled calibration on the anti-matter assembly, whilst taking detailed scans of the whole warp core. Intel had gathered evidence that the Tholians had managed to smuggle a tricolbalt device onboard the newly refitted vessel....the Enterprise.
The Corps of Engineers had just spent over 18 months refitting the heavy cruiser and somewhere, aided by someone, an explosive device was ready to go off just as the ship was about to head into a pivotal moment in Earth....in galactic history. The ship under the command of Admiral Kirk was on route to meet V´ger, and if they did not make that rendevouz, the massive probe would destroy Earth and with it the Federation. Sure, there were a few dozen vessels out there, but most of them undermanned and in need of a refit. The Klingons and Romuland would smell blood and according to all calculations, join forces to destroy what was left of the Federation in a matter of months. The Khitomer massacre would never happen, and the Klingon-Romulan alliance would conquer the Alpha and Beta Quadrants within 70 years.
It was an outcome his bosses wished to prevent at all cost, and that meant a strike force hunted down the Tholian agents, while Jonathan and a handful of operatives scoured the Enterprise in an effort to disarm and remove the device. That was if they ever found it.
Jonathan blew air through his lips up towards his eyebrow where a drop of sweat threatened to get into his eye, the bulky helmet making it impossible for him to wipe his forehead. This core was recently brought online, and the risk of radiation leaks was high as they, the normal crew, ran their test and shakedown in order to get the core properly installed and running like it should. This situation, known to engineers as a hail mary periods, often carried with them a high risk of danger, especially back in the middle ages like these, before the new era of warp cores came into service. A more cleaner and efficient era...he found himself reminiscing over his time as Chief of the Scimitar, well before he had been stupid enough to move to Command.
He failed as the drop of sweat got into his eye and he shook his head and blinked, trying to discourage further droplets from taking the same route. "Indigo to Hamlet, the storage pods are clean...no sign of the package". The voice carried over his subdermal implant, reverberating through his head. This was also why the Tholians had picked this moment, with the core emitting so much stray radiation, conventional Tricorders were near useless this close to the source unless you were directly on top of what you were searching for.
"Understood Indigo, move down to the plasma regulators and join Xavier, he needs the assistance" Jonathan answered after he hunched down out of sight, pretending to inspect a power regulator just as he spotted Captain Decker over by the main power controls with Scotty. He needed to stay far away from those two, as the two men prided themselves on knowing every inch of this ship and every person serving on her. That did not include Jonathan, and would raise some alarms if he were to be spotted.
"I knew it. The transporter sensor was not activated....faulty module"
Jonathan glanced up at that, it was Decker who had spoken. The transporter sensor? Jonathan had reviewed the refit duty logs, the transporter was supposed to be running green. "Cleary, put a new backup sensor into the unit" Scotty responded as the two men continued working. Something felt off, he could be way off base here but perhaps what they were after wasn´t in the core at all....transporter circuits ran counter to the mains on that deck, which led to the main energy capacitor in Main Engineering....."Indigo this is Hamlet....I´m going up to G deck to check something out".
"Negative Hamlet, reactor control takes priority..."
"Sorry, control. You´re breaking up..."
He could hear swearing as he switched his comm off, they were running out of time and he had better be right about this.
He grabbed his toolkit and headed for the exit, and strode to the nearest Turbolift. Mere minutes later, he arrived at the personnel transporter, making sure to keep his head down as Rand worked alongside a few crew by the controls, engrossed in their job. He passed the group and headed into the back, gaining access to the main buffer controls and the Heisenberg compensators, returning a nod from a passing Yeoman.
He ran the tricorder over the compartment and almost dropped the device as its alarms went off. It was here....and it was already active.
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Aug 25, 2019 5:17:26 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Conference Room One Date: February 17, 2553
with Aoibhe as Control
"What the hell do you think you were doing?"
"My job...that´s what you recruited me for right?" Jonathan responded coolly as he nursed the cup of Rak in his hands. "History remains unchanged, and we have evidence of Tholian interference and as we speak the special intervention team is hunting down their agent using the data we collected....am I warm?"
"You are a pompous prick" Control said angrily, picking up a bottle of Rum from the Director´s private stash and two tumblers before stalking back over to the conference table and placing the glasses down. She had olive skin, tall, human from the looks of it. Mid thirties, early forties dressed in a tight black uniform, a pair of stripes on her shoulders. She was his babysitter, here to make sure he didn't mess up his first solo mission....if they ever approved it.
"I have heard that before, yeah" he said as he pushed the coffee away and grinned "Are you trying to butter me up, Ma ́am?"
"'Ma'am'", she repeated with dry amusement. She popped the top off the rum bottle and splashed a generous glug into one glass. "I'm relieved to see your memory returning, Jon. You had clearly forgotten who was in command on that last incursion."
She placed the heavy-based bottle on the transparent conference table and eyed him with ill-hidden disdain. She reached for the glass, grasped it and took a long, slow sip.
Jonathan smiled as he reached for the bottle, unplugged the cork and served himself a sizable portion before topping her up "old habits" he merely said before throwing down the rum, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the drink. Something that was hard to come by these days, not counting temporal contraband. With Earth gone and all. "I had a feeling, I went with it and we saved her"
"Confine your feelings to love-making and battle. They don’t belong on a mission that delicate."
He raised an eyebrow at that as he brought the glass to his lips. "I used to believe that too, and you can damn well believe my old crew thought me as stiff as deck plating back in the day, but this job requires us to sometimes act quick. Or am I wrong?"
“Of course you’re wrong!” she exclaimed before leaning forward and speaking with slow, enunciated emphasis. “Always. Assume. You’re. Wrong.” She sat back. “And you can stow that nostalgia, too. That’s baggage none of us can afford. You’re ash and dirt orbiting an inconsequential moon.” She paused, her finger gently, rhythmically tapping her glass. “And anyone who thought you were a hero is long dead too. None of it matters anymore, understood?”
He paused mid sip, leaning back with a look of disdain painted on his face "I never said I was..and you know damn well history agrees. But you know my track record. I feel that speaks for itself." He placed the glass down with more force than intended, his nerves rattled. "And I don't need some child babysitting me"
“Clearly you do!!” she laughed. “But OK, let's look at that track record, shall we...”
She stared at him, unblinking. “You were sent to deliver a simple message on an Orion Syndicate-run station… and you ended up going on a dinner date with a child. You were given leave on a backwater planet under the condition that you didn't alter anything appreciably... and then you bought a hooker a house. You were stationed by the Warp Core of the Enterprise, ordered to remain there… and you ended up charging off into a turbolift before careening over to Transporter Control... Right past Janice Rand, no less! Your recklessness and disregard for the delicate nature of our work is... is...” she stuttered, unable to finish the thought.
"The kid was hungry and had local knowledge" he shrugged and reached for his drink again, using it as a shield. "As for my leave time, that was private and the Enterprise...well she kept flying, so what's got your space panties in a twist kid?"
“Oh my god,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How can someone with an obit' as glowing as yours be such a dolt?” She leaned forward. “You're so... linear.”
She bit her lip and organised her thoughts. “Every action has consequences,” she explained slowly. “You taking that turbolift to Transporter Control could have delayed someone getting where they needed to go. Chance encounters, important messages, the spreading of a Levodian flu virus on Deck 9 instead of Deck 8... who knows what you might have disrupted... Luckily, that mission didn't need the same clean-up your previous ones did...”
She sipped at her rum, her green eyes never leaving his face. “Your 'private' time on Farius was a doozy to fix, by the way… thanks for that...” her voice softened a little as she continued, her fingers tapping again on the side of her glass “...and I won't even tell you what we had to do to that poor kid to get her back on track. You made her trust a stranger, Jon.” She threw him an incredulous look. “...I mean, when you were busy playing ‘Daddy’ to her did you even think what a weakness that’d be to a little girl growing up in a pit full of vipers?”
He smiled ruefully "That kid turned out great, her 'obit' as you call it is longer than mine". In fact he was extremely proud of her long and distinguished career, both in and out Starfleet before her death. "And there was no need to wipe Iliara's mind you Vulcan, she is harmless"
“I'm not Vulcan,” she clarified.
She chose not to correct his impression of Iliria's fate. Now wasn't the time to tell him they'd wiped more than her memory; that instead, her superiors had ordered Iliria pumped full of diacetylmorphine. The time wasn't right for him to learn she'd expired two weeks after he left, in an unwilling ecstatic delirium, wrapped up in the soft sheets of the bed they’d shared.
She sighed and observed him wearily in silence, doubts clouding her mind.
Jonathan Rome. She shook her head. The Jonathan Rome. The stories she'd been told as a kid hadn't prepared her for the reality of the man.
“The point is, you haven't done anything to convince me that you're ready for a solo mission.”
"Okay listen kid, I was out there fighting in wars before you were reading and writing. I can handle myself. And if you're that worried, you can always join. You'd get a kick out of meeting someone that famous"
“I don't give a damn about meeting Dixon. I've met better,” she replied, eyeing him significantly, “I've met worse. They're all just people terrified of the same thing. I do give a damn about you, not screwing up a pivotal moment in the timestream, though. So, unless you can prove to me that you can listen, learn and follow my orders, stick to a plan and won't start feeding urchins or housing hookers at the drop of a hat... you're grounded.”
He eyed her curiously, taking a slow deliberate sip of the rum. "What happened to you? Troubled childhood I reckon from your reaction to me 'damaging' that young girl as you see it...but there's more. You genuinely despise me in particular. Did I step on your puppy or something?"
“Tell me, what would the great Captain Rome do to a subordinate who refused to follow orders?” she asked as she got suddenly to her feet and paced deliberately over to a bulkhead, bottle in hand, returning it to its alcove. “How would he react to a rookie calling him ‘kid’?” She sealed the alcove with the touch of a control pad, then steeled herself, turned around and held his gaze. “How would he feel about someone like that, hm?”
"He would slap the person down a rank without as much as a thought. Thinking this might teach them a lesson. Usually it did the trick. Ruling by the fist, of course that was during a time of war. Peace requires more tact. I used to let my ExOhs handle that". He emptied his glass and turned to face her "you remind me of one of them actually"
“Maybe we just found you equally infuriating. Dismissed.”
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Nov 15, 2019 16:13:24 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Outer Corridor 3
Date: 3 pm, August 21, 2553
with Aoibhe as Control
“I'm fine, dammit!” Control's rasping voice called out, her bootsteps heavy and resonant on the utilitarian corridor floor. She flashed past the silent canteen's double doors as Rome glanced up from his book.
Through the open doors, he caught sight of her clad in 22nd Century, gunmetal grey body armour, a smoking helmet gripped in her right hand. A streak of livid red cut across her cheek. In a blur of dark curls and chaos, she ploughed out of sight, followed by a string of three or four operatives. Her voice, however, carried. “It's just a nosebleed, doc... I'm fine!”
“Let me be the judge of that…”
The canteen doors slid closed.
From within, a voice broke the silence. “That looked nasty.” Chief Baker sat on the opposite side of the dimly-lit canteen.
“At least she's back,” his companion observed.
“She's late, though. Wonder what happened,”
“You'd know more than I do.”
Baker finished his coffee and stood. “And I know squat...” With one swift glance in Rome's direction, “...but, something tells me I got a mess to clean up in the Hub now... catch you later, Carter”, Baker left.
Jonathan retrieved a small photograph from his shirt pocket and placed it between the pages of his book before closing it gently. He looked over at Carter "Why do I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much?"
Carter turned in his seat. “I wouldn’t take it personal,” he replied. “He doesn’t like a lot of people.” The younger man coughed. “He's been here a while. Seen a lot. Even meeting one of the 'big names' stops meaning anything after a while.”
"There are no big names here kid, just ghosts" Jonathan said as he stood up, pushing the chair against the metal plating with a heavy groan and picked up his book. "I'll be seeing you. Going to see what mess she stepped in"
Carter watched him leave. “Big ghosts, then,” he muttered to himself and he turned somberly back to his coffee.
---
“One cc trianaline!” Doctor Nichols called over her shoulder as Sickbay buzzed to life.
“I’m fine, Mona! I don’t need-” Despite her protests Control hissed in pain as a nurse worked to pull her shattered shoulder plating away from her body.
Nichols eyed the raw skin. “Mmhm… that’s some nose bleed” she turned and beckoned over a second nurse “...dermal regenerator, now.”
Control sat, dressed from the belt down in full MACO combat gear, her upper body now armour-free. She dug her fingertips into the soft side of the biobed and clenched her teeth. She could taste blood. She only hoped it was her own. She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh and let them work in peace.
"She okay, Doc?"
The question came from inside the door where Jonathan stood, surveying the scene. He nodded at the door "it was open"
Nichols threw Control a cursory glance.
“She’ll be ok, Captain” the doctor responded, offering Rome a knowing, sympathetic smile before giving her patient’s shoulder another pass with the regenerator. “Just a nosebleed, right, ‘Oni?”
“Mona, I swear to god…” Control warned.
"Oni, huh?" Jonathan walked over to where Control lay.
“What can I do for you, Captain?” Nichols asked, running a scanner over the surface of her patient’s healed skin. “Got a papercut or something?”
"Sorry for intruding Doctor…” he cast a glance at “Oni”, then back at the Doctor “I was just checking in"
Control growled and sat up, locking eyes with Rome. Nichols moved around the biobed and started repairing the bloody graze on her cheek and jaw.
His face twisted "I just wanted to make sure you were okay ma´am” he cleared his throat "And perhaps I was out of line earlier and I didn't want to let that be our last exchange"
“Perhaps?” she enquired, stone-faced. “You think this exchange is likely to go any different?”
Nichols finished up swiftly.
“I apologise, alright?” he looked flustered, a not so common sight for him “Look, ma´am, I´m not used to this ...answering to someone. It´s been a long time since I had a commanding officer on an away mission"
“That’s patently obvious.”
"Look you two, as much as I encourage emotional growth… .could you take this quarrel someplace else? I do have work to do" Nichols added, arms crossed and nodding toward the exit. "Keep that shoulder down 'Oni and get some rest, you will be good in a couple of days. That means no punching the Captain."
"Understood, doc.” Control hopped off the biobed, her MACO boots adding a little to her height. She stood eye to eye with Rome. “With me,” she ordered simply before turning to the doctor. “Thanks, Nichols.”
Then she spun on her heel and headed for the exit.
…
“Why Dixon?” she asked after Rome had joined her.
He fell in step with her, matching her rhythmic march down the long hallway "Because he's smart, he has always been five steps ahead of any adversary or friend, and he was the head of the old guard. If anyone has knowledge, it's him. And I want to see him die"
“That sounds messy,” she replied. “That sounds… personal. We don’t do personal.” She glanced sideways. “If we did, there’d be a lot more heads on spikes around here.”
"I never said I would kill him" he added as they went around a corner "But he doesn´t need to know that. And I know exactly where and how he dies. Seeing it happen is just a bonus"
Control halted at a turbolift and pressed the button. “And what do you want to have him talk about before he gurgles his last?” The door whispered open and she stepped inside, turning to face the front and crossing her arms.
“I already went over this with the Commander...he´s old, for a human. If he is one. This man has always been six steps ahead of everyone and traded in information. If anyone can give us a lead, it will be him”
“Hm,” Control replied, unimpressed. “Chronometrics,” she ordered and the turbolift responded immediately. White lights flashed sideways on the turbolift walls, then they stopped. Replacing them were blue lights, this time coursing up the ‘lift walls. Moments later, the doors opened into a room Rome hadn’t seen before.
It was a vast, dome-shaped structure with pitch black walls and a ceiling curving to a yawning centre under which was fixed a single, glowing control unit.
”With me.” Control paced forward, her boots falling with a satisfying thud on the metallic floor plating. Activating the control unit sent lights and images swirling around them.
“Display timeline: Rome, Jonathan, Captain, Starfleet…”
The images projected on the walls slowed and settled. Rome could now easily pick out key moments in his life, his entire natural timeline laid out in passionless precision. Surrounding him suddenly were his loves and his losses, his triumphs and failures. From his first mewling cry as an infant to the soul-rending roar with which he departed, everything was laid bare.
Control’s green eyes watched him like a hawk.
“If you could change one thing,” she said, “what would it be?”
"Stardate 11509.20, old Federation calendar." He stated without a moment's hesitation. As if he had been holding his breath to speak this out loud for his whole life. "Sigma Rho station, command deck. 11.32 AM". He could feel her eyes on him as he reached out for the approximate moment before him, as if he could snatch it out of thin air and thus make it disappear. "I made my most trusted Commander and a dear friend commit murder"
Control calmly pulled up the exact moment, displaying it in perfect holographic definition in the open space before them.
"What would you have done differently?"
Jonathan had to refrain from gaping as the scene appeared in front of him, like a scene from a movie about his life. "How is this possible? There are no recordings of this mission"
"What would you have done differently?" she repeated, her voice taking on a sharper tone.
“They didn´t need to die….the right thing to do was to stun them, tie them up and continue on with our mission….but I felt the risk was too high. They could get lose, and upset the mission parameters.”
“So, what would you have done differently?” she asked again, more sternly.
"I would have killed them myself. The risk was too high. The mission mattered"
Control tapped the screen and the holoimage vanished. “And the mission would have continued as before. And Starfleet would have rebuffed the slavering hordes once more… But the effect that one change would have had on Joanna Feyna would have been long-term. Your order planted a germ of distrust in her mind. It adulterated her blind loyalty. To use your own colourful metaphor, she was a puppy and you stepped on her.” Control held Rome with a glance. “It broke her heart, but it meant that when you died, she was able to carry on. Had you killed that Tzenkethi for her, she’d not have become as strong as she did.”
Control blinked.
“Your death broke so many of the people who cared about you. But not her. Consequences, Jonathan. I’m trying to teach you about consequences. Is any of this going in?”
“My death broke no one. I didn´t train my people to be sentimental babies. They may have griefed, but broken. Never”
"That's a 'no', then…" she sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her freckled nose. "... love of god…" she swore under her breath.
"Look, you dense, potato of a man, history needed her to hate you, godammit," she said, turning her body away from the control panel to face him. "If you hadn't taught her that captains are flawed she wouldn't have questioned Captain Gordon on the Androcles thirty seven years later. If you hadn't proven to that woman that captains order senseless murders, or even cause senseless murders, then she'd not have had the conviction to fire that phaser and stop Gordon, ok?"
Control extended an index finger and jabbed Rome's shoulder.
"You made her bump off two inconsequential Tzenkethi lackeys and four decades later, she went on to save thousands. Who are you to alter that just because you feel bad about upsetting your best pal?"
He looked at her, her eyes fixed on him. “You´ve given this a lot of thought...why do you know all of this?
That made her start suddenly. She pursed her lips defensively. "I research everyone under my command."
“But me, you seem obsessed with every minutiae of my career….and I research everyone I get into bed with, and your whole file is redacted” he retorted. “Why is it I can at least see Commander Rotzi´s redacted nonsense, but you, nothing. At. all.”
"I've seen what happens to your bedfellows," she replied, her voice strained, "...proverbial and otherwise… I suggest you aim your research somewhere more productive."
He took a step forward, ignoring his counterpart as he sought another event above his head. After a few moments of silence he isolated the event, a minor incursion in his timeline according to this software, but the most important one if you asked him "if I did not understand consequences...how one person's death can mean another five live…., don't you think I would have found a way to save her?"
Control turned around to once again face Rome with a flicker of optimism in her eyes that faded the moment she saw who he was talking about. She quickly pulled herself together, though the knot in her stomach now felt twice as tight. She tapped at the control unit to distract from the flush of her cheeks. “Do you… do you want to see her final moment?”
He wanted simultaneously to cry and laugh, as he had never imagined having to make such a horrible choice. "Please" he said almost inaudible, as the emotion caught in his throat. He had played her final message from that pod a countless times, listening to every sound, whimper and cry...he knew it better than any other moment in his adult life.
Control tapped the console with a sweeping motion. As before, a still holo image coalesced before them.
It was a scene. Hundreds of people in varying states of disarray crowded and huddled on the floor of a vast Starfleet cargo hold.
In one well lit area triage was being performed. In another people gathered around a man with a container full of rations.
“Let me…” Control said, tapping once more and reducing the scene to the subject at hand.
The image zoomed in on Eva, sitting upright on a cargo crate, her brave, beautiful face looking out over the crowd with an expression of utter disbelief, her eyes filling with incredulous, happy tears.
Jonathan reached out but thought better of it, not wanting to appear stupid and withdrew his hand "I haven't seen her in so long "
Eva’s clothing was crumpled and ripped at a shoulder seam and a livid bruise was starting to colour her jawline a vibrant Tyrian purple but none of that seemed to matter as she focussed on something in the near distance and out of sight.
In her fist Rome could see her recording device. It was shining with a weak light through her fingers. She had been making an entry.
Control watched him. She watched his face as it softened and saddened at the sight of her, a wave of unexpected and unwelcome pity sweeping through her as she realised he was as human and any of them.
Suddenly, uncharacteristically, she felt out of place.
“I, um…” she found herself muttering. “There was an undocumented temporal incursion at this exact moment. We don’t have reliable records for the final few minutes of the Yukzuka’s existence.” She lowered her gaze to the console.
"What incursion?" He asked matter-of-factly, as one would ask the weather or for someone to pass a pen. He looked up at her and repeated the question.
“There’s audio…” Control replied. Her gaze flickered from him to the console then back again. She hit the relevant button and a crackling, muffled recording began.
Eva Arrani’s clear, professional voice cut through the static and ambient noise.
She was recording a piece for FNN.
“... of Starfleet’s ideals, and despite the lack of training and the fear these people are feeling they are still doing all they can for each other. Lost children are seeking comfort in the embrace of old women, injured young men are being guided towards triage, I’ve been handed food by people as hungry as I am… the spirit of the Federation lives on even as its people suffer.. And… and… ”
The recording paused, a muffled sound filling the vast room.
When Eva spoke again her voice was quivering, heavy with emotion, barely audible “...Jon…?”
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Dec 30, 2019 21:18:21 GMT
Location: Metabilis 6, Sector 889, Gamma Quadrant
Date: 3 pm, August 22, 2553
with Aoibhe as Control
He sat on the empty pier. The wood was partially covered in green moss and other fungi, and cracked in places. It had seen better days. He liked to come here to think. The planet was not a high risk destination in this decade, after the inhabitants had destroyed themselves.
He looked over at the opposite pier as the automatic barge came in, docking slowly, lowering its ramp as it awaited the unloading crew that would never come. Eventually the machinery would break down, but it was almost 200 years since the extinction event and still the solar panels converted solar radiation into energy enough to run the whole operation, decade after decade. Something about it felt peaceful. In the way that death made see that despite the death of all things...life still continued on for billions of beings, and they gave not a second thought about the deaths of those who came before.
“I thought I´d find you here” Jonathan glanced up at ‘Oni, then back at the barge. “I came here to be alone”.
“Fine” she turned to leave but Jonathan reached up and grabbed her by the leg “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Raktajino, double strong double cream” she pushed the travel mug emblazoned with the old Federation logo towards him “I heard this was your order. Seems fitting."
She lowered herself down beside him and sipped from her own mug, the scent of her preferred Italian blend coffee wafting across the still water and mingling with the light mist.
"A penny for your thoughts…" she asked.
He sipped off the coffee, putting the mug down to glance at it before taking another sip "why did you show me that? How does that even work? I haven't done any of that….right?"
Oni shrugged and sighed. She ran a hand across her neck, dipped under her uniform jacket and rubbed her recently injured shoulder in thought. "I could tell you time is linear, or fluid, or that events are inevitable and all our work is for naught." She shrugged, planted her hand on the wood of the pier to her side and dangled her legs over the edge. "I could say that every change we make creates an alternate timeline, or a recursive loop, or both, or neither… truth is, we do what we can with the understanding we have and when we understand more we'll do better."
The barge clicked to life, slowly disengaging from the pier and beginning its journey to the far side once more.
"All I know for sure is that time is a fickle bitch and defies definition." Oni sipped her coffee in silence and watched the barge's gentle wake disturb the stillness.
Jonathan nodded and brought the lid up to his nose, taking in the aroma. "If I could go back and save all the people I've lost. Stop all the people I love from being hurt...I would. I don't care about time. But I also know you, and your bosses, you never would let me"
“You’re right. And some day, when I... go back... maybe you'll have to talk some other bull-headed, over-achieving idiot out of doing the same."
Oni drew her attention away from the water and examined Rome. Since she’d brought him to the chronometrics lab she’d begun to see him in a different light. Neither the boogieman she’d come to see him as since she joined the temporal corps nor the intimidating, heroic figure that she’d learnt about growing up seemed to jive with the average man sat beside her now. He was struggling with the same bullshit as everyone else, she realised.
“We all have things we desperately want to change,” she said simply.
"By 'go back'...you mean to the point of death, right?". He glanced over as the drawbridge raised, allowing the barge safe passage to its supply depot, where more ghosts awaited. "When was that?"
“That subject’s a bit taboo around here, you know… it’s like asking a prisoner what they’re in for.” She attempted a smile as her green eyes shone with a nervousness Rome found oddly familiar. “It was a long time ago, in a starsystem on the other side of the galaxy.” She cradled her mug and took a sip. “I was 17… or 18, maybe? I can’t remember. Young, anyway. Too young. I saved a Federation crew, though. Just like you.” She huffed softly.
"Yeah, we're two peas in a pod" he added soberly as he watched the suns start to set. "I'm sorry you had to go out so young"
“Coulda been worse,” she shifted her weight and coughed to hide a quiver in her voice. “Coulda gone a whole lot sooner.” She leant forward a little, stared down at her reflection in the ruby-dark water. “I’ve approved your mission.”
That caught his attention. "What made you change your mind then?"
“Now you know what you’ll lose if you don’t behave.” She pulled herself to her feet. “Consequences, Jon, consequences...." she stopped in her tracks and looked away before continuing "I also need a favor. There´s a recruit incoming. I need you to handle it"
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Mar 13, 2020 18:48:57 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Outer Corridor 3
Date: September 14, 2553
with Aoibhe as Niamh Danann
“Deep breaths, Commander… try to remain calm,” a far away voice instructed. Everything was black and blurry and spinning. Danann wasn’t sure where she was, what was happening or who was speaking. Only one thing remained certain, this asshole clearly didn't know who they were talking to.
“I’m a Captain, not a Commander,” she slurred.
"I think I'll be the judge of that," the voice replied sternly. She felt two arms lifting her up to a seating position. "Now breathe, kid. The effects will subside in a minute."
Danann gasped for breath, gulping down lungfuls of air. She felt a cold hypospray press against the side of her neck. She lifted an arm to bat it blindly away but found her movement restricted by the sudden grasp of a strong hand on her wrist. Almost immediately the spinning slowed.
“Where am I?” she asked between rapid breaths.
"Don't worry, you are out of danger. Can you open your eyes?"
“I don’t wanna,” she grumbled.
“Not what I asked, Commander.”
Something about the voice compelled her to try. When she did, she regretted it immediately. Bright light seared her retinas. Danann squinted and searched for the owner of the voice. A chill shot up her spine as she stared in rapt disbelief. She raised a quivering hand to shield her eyes from the blinding brightness.
"Relax," he said calmly and raised a regenerator over her right temple. "You fell, hit your head badly. The good news is, where we are now, it is easily treatable."
She sat silently as he repaired her injury, unsure how to react. As her cranium knit together and the severe damage to her brain tissue healed, her vision finally cleared and she confirmed what she’d suspected.
“...Captain…?” she rasped.
Satisfied with his work, Jonathan switched off the device and placed it back in his medkit. He then looked her in the eye and smiled. "Hello, Commander. It is very nice to see you...although I wish the circumstances were different"
Her freckled cheeks flushed and her green eyes welled instantly. “Sir...” she croaked, before her composure snapped completely. Jonathan Rome winced, placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder and waited as she sobbed.
___
"So, you're telling me that these people” she waggled her fingers in the air “'beamed' you off the Hyperion just before it broke up and you've been mucking about in time ever since…?" she summed up as they paced in unison along a vaguely Starfleet-looking metal-plated corridor. They made an odd pair. Him in his pitch-black jumpsuit, tailored and groomed to perfection and her in dusty old leather and canvas, her hair wild and unkempt. It was hard to believe they had once commanded a starship together.
“It... is a bit more complicated actually. In fact, I am still in that wreckage at the bottom of the Desporian trench, I am also seconds away from crashing into the sea, and I am also sipping Jippers on my last holiday on Risa. Time is... complicated. But what I am here, now is a separate linear copy of that man. However without him, I could not be… so. Does that answer your question?”
"Frankly, sir, not in the slightest. I'm a pilot. Three dimensions are enough for me to be getting on with." Danann turned to look at him. "Regardless, you're a 'separate linear copy' I'm happy to clap eyes on. It's been… uh," her voice quivered, "not great since you… uh…" she struggled to find the right words, "...died?"
He stopped right outside the doors to the Chronometrics lab and turned to face her. “Commander. I am sorry, but I died a long time ago and I am alright with that, and you should be too.." He smiled, a sight she did not remember seeing often "and you....are so much more than a pilot. I wish you had seen yourself the way the rest of us did”.
“Yea, did you know I'm a Captain, now?” she reminded him.
Rome palmed the scanner on the side of the door and it slid open, revealing a large chamber with a small cylindrical console in the middle. “they give command to everyone these days…" he said, a small grin on his face, "follow me, I have to show you something.”
"It's all very well for you to say you're ok being dead, by the way,” she called after him, “but at least you knew we were all safe... We all thought you were fish food!” Niamh hesitated then followed him in. “You didn't contact any of us. Not even Feyna. Have you any idea how different our lives would be if we'd known you were OK?! I mean, Jesus, Rome, I quit fucking Starfleet because of -" she stopped dead in her tracks a few feet inside the vast, yawning expanse. "Well, this is an ominous room…" she observed, her hands finding her tightly clad hips as she turned on the spot.
“I haven't told any of you... because I'm not allowed to, kiddo. There are rules, and even I can't break those”. He turned around. “And now, neither can you.”
"Fine time to become the teacher’s pet," she huffed, gesturing idly to her current uniform. "I stop following the rules and you start following them." She eyed the console before casually observing; "If you'd cared about the rules a few years ago I'd not have lost that pip," she reminded him as she walked past him towards the middle of the room.
“Many years may have passed, but do not assume to place your mistakes on me just because I no longer wear red”, he retorted with a low growl as he watched her back. Nia bristled but held her tongue.
“Now pay attention”, he continued. He brought up a holographic representation of her timeline. It ebbed and flowed around them, pinpointing major life events in an arc.
Niamh focussed on the memories projected in holographic form all around the edge of the room. “Wow... this is... thorough.” She turned to look at her companion.
“Can we see yours next?”
“No.”
“Aw, but I wanna see what you were like as a kid.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You're no fun.”
Rome grunted.
“Er, em… can I...?” she gestured to the nearest memory.
Rome nodded, sighed and folded his arms, coughing uncomfortably.
She bit her lip and advanced towards the holographic display like it was a box of chocolates. She hesitated, then raised a hand and rifled through the entries. “I bet you spend all your time in here... this is fascinating,” she told him, spotting a memory of interest and tapping it. The centre of the room glowed with holographic light. Before them stood younger versions of themselves in Rome's Ready Room aboard the Hyperion. Nia was clutching a pile of PADDs tightly to her uniformed chest. Her fresh face looked earnestly upon her Captain as she listened to whatever orders he was relaying from behind his desk.
Jonathan felt his heart beat faster as he gazed upon his younger self. Was he ever that young?
“I never understood why you made me so nervous in the early days...” she observed with a slight smile. “Even now it's an effort not to call you 'sir', sir.”
Rome shook off the reverie and humphed. “I have brought you here because you have been offered a second chance, Commander Danann,” he told her, hoping she’d focus now.
"Captain" she muttered under her breath. She lingered on the memory for a moment then dove back in, pulling out scenes from her Academy days, “back when the only thing to worry about was a bad exam result,” she quipped.
Rome resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her continued distractedness. She didn’t know it, but she wasn’t making this easy.
Next, she found a snapshot of her meeting in Admiral Loxley's office on Earth as she tendered her resignation from Starfleet. It was the morning after Rome's memorial and her tired eyes were framed by dark circles. Her Starfleet dress whites had been slept in and were dishevelled, and her collection of medals swung heavily on the wing of her open jacket. She had one hand planted firmly on the Admiral's desk. She was roaring at Loxley as she flung her commbadge onto the desk's transparent surface.
“He didn't deserve that anger,” she told Rome softly. “But there was nowhere else for it to go.”
After a heartbeat and a heavy sigh, she moved on, swinging back in time in search of a happier memory. She didn't have to look far. “Sara,” she sighed, tapping on a file and expanding it with a smile. The centre of the room now displayed their first encounter. Sumner and Danann were locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed against each other as their fingers clutched at each other’s clothing tightly. “We met when the Bremen and Hyperion docked at the same station,” Danann explained. “We were both overdue our small-craft level 5 assessment, so we shared a flight simulator, and well...” she gazed wistfully at the apparition before her, heartened to see it was exactly as hot as she'd remembered, “...one thing lead to another... and another, and another. That woman is really something...” She turned to smile at Rome, finally becoming aware of his intense unease.
This was a side to his former XO he'd been aware of, but had never witnessed first hand. She'd always kept a professional distance from him, which he’d appreciated….it was at times like these he missed Thalev. And now it occurred to him that perhaps Thalev missed Sara AND Nia, and he cleared his throat again.
She smirked, enjoying his discomfort. “Sara had serious skills, let me tell you. Whoo! You know, she used to do this thing with her thumb...” she told him. She threw Rome a lop-sided grin and held her hand up, making a suggestive gesture.
“Commander, that's enough.” Rome ordered "this is serious".
She laughed, acquiesced with a cheery shrug and allowed herself one final, longing glance at the scene. Then she moved on. “Guess I shouldn't open up any files with Tony in them, either,” she called over. “Although…" she began rifling through the memories again in earnest. "There was this one time, during the Tzenkethi war, we hadn’t seen each other in months, right?" she began, “so we-”
“I said 'enough', Danann!”
“Fine, fine... I'll stick to PG-13 memories, then.”
She spun the wheel and let it travel way, way back in time. “There was a man once, when I was little... I remember him buying me food when I lived on an Orion station. 'All you can eat burritos',” she recalled. “For a starving wee thing used to getting the shitty end of the stick, that was heaven... but it was so long ago now that I’m not even sure he was real. He might have been a really vivid hunger dream, you know?...not sure why I am reminded of him now” she browsed her early life in search of “The Nice Man, I called him.” She looked over her shoulder at her former Captain, “never was any good at naming people, was I? Just smooshed mine and Tony's names together for Antonia, even, huh... Poor 'Oni. Kid wouldn't've stood a chance.”
She went back to her search, missing a monumental shift in Jonathan's expression.
'Oni, she'd said. That name rang serious alarm bells in his head as a chill ran up his spine and he reached out to a wall to steady himself. That bitch...of course. He saw it now, she was her spitting image. Maybe that's why she riled him up so easily.
“Ah! You're kidding me,” she huffed, interrupting his thoughts. “It's all glitchy.” she tried to open it, but failed. “Ah! Shit.” She read a line of text, “'temporal incursion present', well, that sucks.”
Jonathan stepped towards her, clearing his throat and put some duritanium behind his words “That's more than enough nostalgia, Commander Danann,” Rome ordered.
“Wait, wait, one more,” she insisted, spinning the timeline into her later years.
“Niamh. This is important.”
“No, no seriously, I wanna show you something... this is important... Ah!” she exclaimed, “There it is…” She was pointing at the first entry featuring her small, Maquis freighter, the Granuaile. “Gosh, would you look at that…” she added, her tone less than genuine as she held her hand up and turned pointedly to Rome. “That’s where I became A CAPTAIN.”
“As you wish... Captain,” he said and took over the controls, zooming in on the one thing she had purposefully avoided; her own death. He’d had enough of her trip down memory lane. It was already hard enough to do to her what he’d been ordered without all the sentimentality and delay . “And this is where it ended. Another Captain lost.”
The image before her wiped the smile off her face. She stared in disbelief. She remembered setting off with Inala and Elena to Traiter's Cave on Zeta Nine to rescue Tom Marsland from dissident Maquis. She remembered losing her footing on the side of a steep scree slope, but still the holoimage was awful to behold.
“Why am I on my own?” she asked softly as her eyes took in the sight of her body slumped against a boulder, head lolled to the right, ashen-faced and bloody. In her limp hand she held a blood-soaked rag that she'd had pressed to her gaping head wound until the point of unconsciousness. “Where is everyone...?”
“All Captains die alone,” he told her, his voice softer than usual.
She dragged her attention away from the horrifying sight. “Why are you showing me this?”
“The team continued on with their mission. They commed for MedEvac. You are not actually dead yet, but...”
“-But I am dead,” she said, her stomach dropping as he nodded once. “...And I'm still on board the Hyperion, still at the Academy, still a defenceless little kid growing up on an Orion-controlled station... right?”
“Not entirely defenceless,” he told her.
She wondered at that, but decided to file it away for later.
Her eyes drifted back to the vision of her lifeless corpse. "So, what's this room all about then, some overly elaborate attempt to shock me into shaping up and flying right, yea? 'You've been offered a second chance', you said... You'd rather I quit all this, return to the 'fleet and die in Starfleet red, like you, is that it?" she felt her anger building at the notion that she might have disappointed him.
He sighed and switched off the projection.
“This is wrong… I don't want you here, Niamh… I was supposed to give you the spiel about how you can serve the Federation in the temporal war, but... this life is hell, and you don't belong here. I'm sorry you're alone on Zeta Nine… I wish I could be there for you, to help you. But it's too late, and now you're here...stuck like me, and there's nothing I can do”
She stared wide-eyed at him then, finally taking in all that he’d become. She noticed how much grey had been scattered through his beard, how many lines streaked from the corners of his eyes, how tired he seemed.
He was a different person to her suddenly. The Captain she'd loved and mourned was gone, replaced by a husk of an old man clad in black.
“It’s been just over two and a half years since Free Haven, Captain… how long’s it been for you...?”
Jonathan smiled weakly, hiding the rising discomfort in his chest as he did his best to hold back a flood of emotions. “It's hard to say... time works differently when you're not anchored to a specific point... but on a calendar time... around seven years...in linear time, from my perspective, closer to thirteen.” He ran a hand over his head and took a deep breath. “Some people have been here for decades. There is no other option for us. It's service... or death. We all choose to serve the Federation, until we break.”
Danann cast him a horrified look. "'Service or death…'" She turned on the spot, instinctively looking for a way out of this nightmare. "So, these assholes wait till you've literally given everything, then they find a way to take more…? What a dick move.” Danann bit her lip and thought.
The last time Rome had gone to his death he'd ordered her into an escape pod and she'd obeyed. She had always regretted that decision. “We have to get you out of here," she announced. "There's two of us now. That's gotta count for something." She stepped closer to him, the loose buckle on her thigh holster jingling dully in the vast expanse.
Jonathan burst out in sudden, unexpected laughter. “No, there's no way out for me other than back on that bridge, kiddo. Don't worry about me... but I won't drag you into this mess.” He reached out to guide her back towards the exit. “Come on, they're gonna make me pay for this but I'm gonna help you out,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and heading for the exit. “Keep low.”
"What...? No! I'm not leaving you here!" She pulled her arm from his grasp in one sharp downward stroke and backed away. “I'm not doing that again. You can't just... you can't expect me to... not after last time.”
Jonathan followed her at a distance. "Hey kid... please, let me do this one thing right. Let me save someone I… care for."
She couldn't look at him as she struggled to control her racing heart. She grappled around behind her for the console and made contact with relief. Leaning back on it, she took a slow, deep breath, releasing it through tense, quivering lips. She found it helped a little so she repeated the process, her head bowed.
"You tried that before…" she told him, "didn't turn out so good for anyone."
"You all survived". He reached out, peeled one of her hands from the console edge and held it gently in his. "You, the Doc, the eternal pain in my ass that was Douglas, Ethan, Jo, Stark...you all survived...I am marking that one down as a success. Something I can be proud of.”
With an almost inaudible voice she said, "We didn't need you to save us. We needed you to lead us…" She squeezed his hand. "We needed you. We still do!"
He smiled ruefully “No. You really don’t Niamh. Look at you now. At what you’ve become,” he let go of her hand and gestured at her. “More of a leader than I ever was. There's another thing I can be proud of...you”
"That's some irony for you…" she observed, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. "There I've been all this time, hating myself for allowing you to... take the conn away from me, for leaving that bridge when I should have stayed… there was me losing my god-damn mind trying to live up to your sacrifice and here you are the whole fucking time… just... being proud." She huffed a wry laugh and looked up at him.
He chuckled, holding back his tears. “Immensely proud, Nia.”
He grabbed her arm again. “Now please, let me get you out of here, back to where you belong.”
She nodded her consent silently.
“Come on, let’s go”.
Together they ran through the empty halls towards the temporal transporter room. With every step he found it harder to press on. He didn't want to let her go. The selfish part of him wanted her to stay forever here with him as some form of the familiar connection he needed. Despite this, he thumbed the door open and led her inside. “Nia, I’m going to have to return you to where we found you... the medical intervention I gave you will be undone…” he ran over to a cabinet and retrieved a simple medpack, pulling out a small emergency hypo and thrust it into her hand. “I need you to stay awake long enough to inject this… I will lock onto it after 1 minute and beam it back so as not to infest the timeline.”
He moved her over to the transporter pad and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Am I clear, Commander?”
She nodded, her fingers clenching the hypo like flotsam in a sudden storm.
"I'll let them all know," she promised urgently as she took in the sight of him one last time. "We'll find a way. We'll get you back, sir.”
Jonathan smiled, and took her hand in his as she stood above him on the pad. “No you won’t kiddo...” he reached up with his other hand and tapped a small black device against her forehead, instantly activating it. A little green light blinked silently. She flinched as it began to work.
Her mind grew foggy. “Wait... what did you just do?” she demanded, reaching up to pull it off.
He stopped her with a strong hand around her wrist.
“Protecting you…” he replied, strengthening his grip as she began to panic, “if you were to remember any of this, they would come for you… and they would kill me. Trust me, it’s better this way.”
Consternation filled her heart.
"No!" She pleaded. "I can't forget…"
“You can, and you will.”
“No! Captain, don't do this! Don't make me forget!” she begged, tears brimming in her bright eyes. “I've just got you back! I can't go back to not knowing! Please!!"
“That’s an order, Commander Danann.”
“I'm not a Commander,” she cried, confused and unsteady. Her eyes dimmed and she looked unsure of herself. “...I'm a... I'm... a...”
He let go of her hands once he saw her shoulders relax and her expression soften into mild bemusement. Unfelt tears streaked down her cheeks and the blinking light grew steady. Her short-term memory had been wiped and no new memories would be formed while it remained on her forehead.
He stepped swiftly over to the controls, inputting the time and space coordinates for the moment of her death. “Don’t worry about me…” he called over, “I have one more mission planned, one more objective. And then I will have them return me to the Hyperion. That's when it will all be over.”
Danann turned in dim surprise towards the unexpected voice. “Captain Rome...?” she blinked and squinted at him. “Where are we? Is this a dream...? Wait… aren't you dead?” She stared at him in baffled confusion.
“Never mind that, Niamh. Stand still, and hold on to that hypo. It's your only hope.” He tapped at his console. “It was very good to see you again, Captain Danann.”
His words slid off her brain like water off a tritanium hull, but his tone struck her. “Ha!” she laughed. “You know, you look exactly like someone I met as a kid,” she realised. “Weird. How did I never notice that before...”
He finished typing in the coordinates and hovered his hand over the activation button, then looked up to meet her puzzled gaze and said, “I really did enjoy that burrito.” He smiled as he hit the activation button with the palm of his hand. "Live long Nia… and be happy."
Danann felt herself phasing out. Then, darkness, searing pain and a crippling cold invaded her bones.
She was back on Zeta Nine and once again she lay alone, confused and dying. A scarlet-soaked rag rested in one limp hand, but now a hypospray lay loosely in the other. Her bloodied fingers tightened around it.
---
“Sixty… fifty nine... fifty eight...” Rome recited, letting the words trail off as he waited in hope for the hypo to return with its cartridge spent. Then he raised his hands and awaited his arrest.
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Apr 8, 2020 16:14:45 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Chronometrics lab 5
Date: November 21, 2553
with Aoibhe as Control
Jonathan sat on the floor in Chronometrics, sipping of a mug of Rak as he watched a projection of his younger self assisting his dad. They had been taking apart the thruster assembly of an old 60s shuttle and were cleaning the injectors. This had been his happiest moments as a kid, up to his elbows in engine grease as his dad smiled on him and together they worked in silence. His parents had passed away years before he had, but he still missed them daily.
He reached out and spun forward in time, up until his first commission as chief Engineer on a starship. His parents had been there to see him off, he zoomed in on the image and smiled. He wished he could see them again.
The doors opened behind him, and he recognised her from her heavy steps as she strode towards him “Been a while, kid”
Control advanced into the room, her booted steps slowing as she neared Rome.
"Are we calling this research, Jonathan, or self indulgence?" She crossed her arms and examined the scene before her. Lt. Rome beamed with confidence and vigour, his parents' pride reflecting his own.
“Neither, it's goodbye” he said, his legs crossed as he sat on the floor. He looked up and motioned for her to sit down. “I didn't attend either of their funerals…” he waited for her to cross to the other side of him before he spoke again.
“Did you know your parents?” he asked
She stood where he had intended her to sit. Her arms crossed more tightly across her uniformed chest. "... You've seen my timeline."
"I've seen you don't have a timeline, " he replied.
"No timeline, no parents."
She tore her gaze away from the idyllic scene before her. "I didn't emerge fully formed from a vat of goo, if that's what you're asking. It's… complicated"
He humphed and motioned for the spot next to him again “Is it not time we stop lying to each other, after all these years?”.
He grabbed the air before him and opened an archived image. It was from the Hyperion, decades ago. She had been docked at Starbase 313. Rome was sitting in the messhall, having a drink with his ExOh and her boyfriend who had come onboard from another ship as the two crews took leave during the war. He had only met the man a handful of times, but he remembered this scene well, as Nia had been so nervous at the time. “Our latest recruit….too bad she didn't find our offer appealing”
Control pursed her lips and resisted a sharp intake of breath.
Her attention immediately zeroed in on Danann, sitting close to an Italian man she recognised from her final moments of life. “They'd just finished replacing a dozen fused conduits on the Bremen's warp drive manifold earlier that day,” she said, her mask slipping as she looked down at Rome. In an instant she seemed younger, vulnerable and if Jonathan was reading this right, a little scared. He'd never seen that before. It was unsettling.
“How did you find out?”
“To be honest, I'm surprised I didn't figure it out earlier….you are so much like her” he looked back at the image, a smile on his face. “I miss her you know, she was….I sound so old when I say this...she was like a daughter to me. I was rough on her, sometimes too rough. But I hope she knows how I felt”.
He looked up at her “Will you for the love of god just sit down”
She huffed, then sat.
"If you're looking for some kind of bonding moment, grandpa, you're not going to get it. "
Jonathan laughed as he probed the inside of his lips with his tongue “good one”. He pulled his legs closer and turned to face her. “I knew when she talked about you”
Oni scrunched her brow in confusion. "This reality's version of her doesn't know me, though. I died." She paused. "I died in my own reality too… I mean, she never knew me. I wasn't born here. She," she pointed to the holoimage, "has nothing to say."
Jonathan looked her over, recognising the hurt and pain, as having spent half his lifetime doing the same “she may not have met you, but she carried you for months, she gave you life...I don’t know how you came to be, or not to be, but you were always real to her…..she named you, she told me stories of how she and your dad were going to take vacations to Risa and go to the waterpark with you….she even made me promise to scare you straight once you joined the service. She made up a whole life with you in her mind”
“There’s irony for you,” she told him, echoing her mother’s observations. “She made up a whole life for me here, and took everything away from me in my own reality.” Oni examined the holoimage again. Niamh Danann looked sheepish but content, her body leaning gently in Tony’s direction, but her attention on Rome as he spoke. She was in the company of the two people she’d have trusted with her life, and her comfort showed.
“During the battle for Sigma Rho, the Bremen came in contact with a subspace rupture caused by an exploding Tzenkethi battlecruiser and was pulled across the galaxy. Despite everything, she refused to believe the ship had been destroyed.”
Oni glanced to her side. Jonathan remembered that moment, how utterly crushed Niamh had appeared when the Hyperion had made it to the aftermath and scanned the debris field. Rome recalled with stark clarity how desperate and fearful she’d become in that moment and how much of herself she’d immediately lost to panic.
“She threw her lot in and bought a ship little bigger than a runabout. I was born on that heap of shit and then spent my entire life travelling across space, in search of a father I never knew. That woman had only two thoughts in her head; find him, and get back to you.” She looked over at Rome, her eyes hostile and hurt.
“She died, still searching, so I was the one who found him and sent his crew home.”
She leant back on her elbows and glared up at her parents. “Which, of course, meant he didn’t disappear for long, so she never left, and I wasn’t born. Yet... here I am. Time can be a real bitch.”
“An inclusive temporal oscillation event…..” Rome said under his breath. “Only theorized until now. You are, impossible” he said with a slight smile “your parents would approve”
“That’s not the first time I’ve been called ‘impossible’”, she observed, displaying the barest hint of humour.
“You cannot exist in the other timeline….I´m sorry you never got to meet your mother as I knew her. She was...is, amazing”
“...funny how you just couldn’t seem to convince her to volunteer,” Oni said, eyeing Rome knowingly. “I didn’t think she had it in her to say ‘No’ to you.”
“They didn't tell you?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “I threw her out of here. No one I love should be stuck in purgatory”
“And yet, you’ve been here how long…?” she asked as she relaxed back with a sigh, taking the weight off her elbows to lie flat against the chronometrics floor. She laced her fingers behind her head and got comfortable. “I’m sure the head shrinkers would have a field day with that little revelation.”
He leant back against his arms, supporting his frame as he looked down and over at her, studying her face with a new understanding “I don’t mean to sound melodramatic….but I deserve nothing but this. At least for a while longer”.
Oni snorted derisively. “Just get a damn flail and stop with all this ‘tortured soul’ bullshit. Damn, Jonathan.”
He smiled, a sad smile. “But my stay here just got a little bit nicer….it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Antonia”
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Aug 2, 2020 16:22:56 GMT
Jonathan gripped the railing on the Bridge of the Hyperion tightly with his left hand as her ablative armor buckled under another volley of torpedoes. “She’ll hold together, don’t worry sir!” Soule shouted as the young man wrestled with the controls, making sure these Tzenkethi bastards got what they deserved.
He stumbled over to the conn, placing an arm on Danann’s shoulder “See what you can do about that dreadnought will ya? Can you get us in close enough for Soule to make some damage?”
Nia looked over her shoulder and grinned, then nodded at Soule “What do you say, blondie? Wanna take a closer look at that ship?”
Jonathan patted his friend on the shoulder before taking a step back, letting himself fall backwards into his chair. “You want to take us in closer?” Roj asked, his nails digging into his seat as Nia throttled it “You are a glutton for punishment, Captain, you know that?”
“Oh, he’s that and a half” Jo interrupted, aiming the fire extinguisher at a burning console “Did I ever tell you about the time …”
“Incoming!”
Jonathan awoke with a jolt, his covers soaked with sweat and his heart racing. He felt the dream dissolve and melt away, and it gutted him. Fourteen years now, fourteen years since he lost them.
He threw off his sweat soaked covers and got up and headed for the refresher, activating the water fountain and splashed cold water on his face. Ever since he saw Nia, he had had bad dreams. Or dreams...memories. A life lived and lost. And it made his current existence feel...empty.
But he was ready, his mission proposal had been accepted and he was ready to finish it.
It was time to go back to the beginning of it all.
|
|
|
Post by aoibheni on Aug 2, 2020 17:01:32 GMT
::popcorn popcorn popcorn::
|
|
|
Post by Einar on Aug 17, 2021 17:15:03 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Officer's mess
Date: December 16, 2553
with Aoibhe as Oni (Control)
“The hell you are!”
“He won’t talk if you are there” Rome stated calmly. He was dressed in his old Starfleet uniform, his beard trimmed and for the first time in years he looked...calm, filled with purpose. Driven.
“He won’t talk at all, trust me we have tried. The only reason they approved your mission, is that perhaps it will shut you up and you will give up on this fantasy. Dixon will never spill his secrets to anyone, dead or alive…..and why are you wearing that?”
“He’s a romantic”
“You’re not going on a date, Jonathan.”
She stared at him intently, her jaw set. “And this isn’t a negotiation. I’m coming with you.”
“No, you are not….I have been part of 306 successful incursions, I have dedicated my afterlife to this mission and I have never lost the course. I can do this, and I need you to get the fuck off my back. Okay? Fuck, you´d think that after 16 years you would trust me”
"Trust you? Do you want me to go through your disciplinary file with you again?" she asked, bristling a little. "Because you and I have been here before. You know I can recite everything starting with Danann’s miraculous recovery and working back…"
"Oni', come on."
“The only reason you haven’t got yourself into hot water since then is that I have kept you out of it. So, again… if you want this, I’m part of the package.”
“You owe me this one.”
"Owe you?!” Oni’s voice pitched up half an octave. She tried again, her tone more even. “Why does Dixon matter to you so much? Why go to all this trouble" she gestured to his spruced up appearance, but he knew she meant the last decade and a half, "just for him?"
“Because if you haven’t been paying attention, Earth is still gone and we are still fighting a war for time. Dixon has vaults in his mind, he might have answers that we need….and answers that I need. And he really won’t talk with you there”
Oni’ bit her lip. 16 years and he was still pushing this relentlessly. A lesser agent would have given up long ago. “He 'might' have answers...” she quoted, her voice low and raspy. "You're willing to hang an entire mission on a maybe."
“If it means saving lifes, always”
She sighed, tired. "Fine…" she relented softly. "I guess the only way to stay sane in this job is to do something utterly crazy once in a while."
“Now you’re getting it”
----
Location: Planet Q
Date: February 4, 2412
One would have expected a fortress, something tall and made out of stone and sitting on a cliff by the sea, an angry sea at that. What Jonathan found was something quite different. It showed him just how little he actually knew Dixon after all.
He stood before the small bungalo in the middle of the rainforest right there on Planet Q. The porchlights were on, and you could hear the buzzing of insects all around. There were no guards, no weapon installations. A man so confident that no one would come near him needed no fort. His mind was the only weapon he needed.
“Now now Jonathan, you will get wet from all that rain. Come on in” the voice rang over his commbadge. Another one of his tricks, just to show who was really in charge. “I’m coming in, and I am unarmed”
Jonathan took slow, careful steps towards the entrance, noting the creaking of the stairs as he stepped onto the front porch and through the old door. Inside was similarly quaint, old furniture, some damaged from the decades of humidity (eons?) and smelled of old spices and sweat. He saw a big white tent at the end of the living area, similar to that of a hospital room and beyond it he could hear the beeping and humming of machinery.
He stepped towards the tent and moved it aside and was immediately confronted with the modern 25th century living, or ...dying. In front of him was a hospital room, fully equipped with all the equipment one would need for to keep someone very old and very sick, living. “So this is where you’ve come to die” he said, addressing the ashen looking man in the biobed. Dixon had always looked half dead, but now there was not much life left in him. The skin hung off his sharp cheeks, his eyes sunken. Jonathan glanced down at his arms, his fingers blue-ish and wrinkled up like old leather “any minute now I'd say”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you boy?” he quipped back, his voice as ice cold as always. It sent a shiver up Jonathan’s back. Damn it. He still managed to scare the shits out of him.
“I would”
Jonathan grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, pulling at his uniform jacket as he did, and smirked. He hadn’t worn this in 16 years, and yet old habits seem to die hard. “I’ve come to chat. Catch up. What have you been up to? Seen any nice movies lately?”
Dixon chuckled at that, a raspy sound “Oh how I have missed our talk, Jonathan…..it’s such a shame you died so very long ago”
“Oh I’m very much alive, Dix. This is no fever dream”
The old man, the corpse, reached for the side of his bed and pushed a button, raising him up to sit face to face with his guest “Oh, is that so Jonathan?”. His steely gaze burrowed through him, piercing any secret. “You died a long time ago, but they recruited you. My files transcend the veil my dear Captain. I know everything about you, and always have”. He chuckled, not menacingly but more gleefully. “Oh I have missed this”
“It’s the last time, so you better enjoy it then” Jonathan added calmly, looking at the chrono on his wrist. “In …...twenty minutes, there will be a cascade failure in the life support system. Not my doing, but it will kill you. It’s written in the stars”
Dixon smiled ruefully “if that’s so, I assume you are here to offer me a way out, I talk and I get to live? Saved by the heroic Captain Rome? Oh dear Captain, have you learned nothing in these past decades?”
Jonathan grinned as he leaned forward and placed his hand over the wrinkly hand before him and spoke calmly “No, I am going to kill you before that happens….you have nineteen minutes”. Fear flashed through his eyes, so briefly that one might have missed it, but the facadé had been broken. Dixon could feel fear. “So you have learned something…..I had so hoped you would grow up”
04:21 AM
“Is this how you want to spend your remaining eighteen minutes and twelve seconds?” Jonathan asked, letting go of the old man’s hand and sitting back in the uncomfortable metal chair, his legs crossed. “Or perhaps you can tell me what you know….unless you plan on taking all with you to the grave. That is if they bury you, I have a feeling that the rats will make quick work of you out here. Is there anyone that cares for you?”
“I have servants”
“I already deactivated all your holograms, and there is a jamming field in place. It’s just you and me now….just like that one time you kidnapped me and tortured me and shot me in the chest….remember?”
04:22 AM
“I remember everything”
Gone was the underlying humour, the witty remarks. He was now calculating, the time he had left, how he could bargain for his life. Even for one minute. “And I remember you used to have ideals. Did we strip them from you so completely? Did we succeed?”
“I cannot answer that, but it seems that you failed at your post. The mastermind behind all of Section 31’s machinations, reduced to a frail old man, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. His empire fallen, his grand plans... worthless in the end. Because I can see that, you know. All your life’s work, reduced to ash.”
“But not my secrets. That is why you are here, and that is why I know your threats are not real. You and your fellow agents have tried before, to get me to talk”
Jonathan shrugged at that, his lips pressed together.
“I won’t tell you what you want to know….how to save our home, you know that right?”
“I know, and that’s not why I’m here”
04:23 AM
That caught his attention, the light returned to his old eyes “Then why are you here, Captain?”
"To witness the end. To know for certain that you die"
"To murder me, you mean. Say it Jonathan"
"To murder you"
A chuckle escaped his chapped lips, bringing Jonathan back to all those years ago, being tortured at the hands of the very man that laid before him now. "But you won't. They won't let you disrupt the timeline of someone as impactful as moi. Even at the very end"
That made him smile. "That's where you're wrong, Dix. The incursion would be within safety margins. I can do what I want, and you will still be dead. Funny how that works”
“So the incorruptible Captain Rome was not so pure of heart after all”
“I guess not”
04:24 AM
“And if I tell you what you are after….who is behind the temporal schism? Will you spare me then?”
“Probably not, no”
Dixon sat up straighter, pulling the robe tighter around his skinny frame as he did. “What about this then….”. The old man pulled a small silver PADD out of the drawer next to his bed and tossed it to Jonathan.
“What’s this then?”
“Temporal coordinates for your long lost love”
“I, um…” Oni found herself muttering. “There was an undocumented temporal incursion at this exact moment. We don’t have reliable records for the final few minutes of the Yukzuka’s existence.” She lowered her gaze to the console.
"What incursion?" He asked matter-of-factly, as one would ask the weather or for someone to pass a pen. He looked up at her and repeated the question. "What incursion?"
“There’s audio…”
“How?”
Dixon grinned “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Jon? I always know. Everything
04:25 AM
“There’s more on there….I will give you the code, but I need some assurances”
Jonathan sighed. For five glorious minutes, he had had the upper hand against Dixon, for the first time. He had planned this for years, but still that old corpse had beaten him.
Again.
“Depends on what is on there, Dix”
"Your whole service record"
"Thats public knowledge"
"Not for Starfleet. This is blackbook. Time agency jacket. Classified"
That piqued His interest. "I know whats in there" why did he make it sound like a question?
"Are you sure….there's a lot they don't tell you"
04:26 AM
"Sure, be vague." Jonathan said impatiently "That's gonna help sell it. twelve minutes, Dix"
Ice seemed to return to the veins of this old man, as he sat up more straight, his dark eyes burrowing into him "Watch your tone boy.. " he seemed to seethe with anger at being spoken to with such disrespect. " I have always expected you here boy, because it was always going to happen. So I made it my business to know you. I know everything they have made you do, and everything they have done to you…"
"You gotta give me something if you expec-"
"Iliara was her name? Correct? The ..prostitute you befriended on Farius and left your sizable estate to?"
"I know what happened to her, Jonathan" back to using his given name. Subtle.
"Alright...what do you want?"
Dixon looked earnest for a moment "Is it true that a power surge will occur? Is that how I die?"
Jonathan nodded solemnly. "It is"
"Then do me the favor of honoring your threat….give me a better death than that"
04:27 AM
"Alright. I will"
"Your word Captain?"
"The word is given, Dixon"
That seemed to put him at ease. "The code is the stardate we met" he laughed, a genuine laugh that made Jonathan shiver. "Oh I truly have missed this"
"I don't remember the date" Jonathan said flatly
The old man smiled knowingly.
"You need to work on your lying Jonathan. That really was poor"
"Say I did...how can I trust this information? I need to verify it. Who is your source? You must have someone on the inside"
"That's a lot of questions, Jonathan.... You can trust the information. Or don't, that's completely up to you." He glanced at the clock on the wall before pushing a button on his bed that lowered him back down. "But you are correct - I do have someone on the inside"
04:28 AM
"Who? I need to speak to him"
"An old enemy. Long dead" the corpse grinned "I have a lot of those"
Jonathan looked at the PADD, then entered the code. Hundreds of files popped up. Incursions he had participated in, planned, executed. Locations, temporal coordinates. Personal logs, psych evaluations….one thing stood out. Tabula rasa? He must have mouthed the words, as his old nemesis spoke up.
"Blank page. That's blackbook for kill list" Dixon said matter-of-factly
He opened the file, and a long list appeared. People he had come across in the field, agents of the Suliban, Xindi, Romulans, even a few Talaxians.
And one human female
"They killed her..." Jonathan said under his breath, barely audible.
04:29 AM
"A casualty of war" the words dripped from Dixon´s lip
"Not this kid!" Jonathan exclaimed angrily "She was innocent. At least innocent of any crime we can prosecute". All Jonathan could feel was hot rage coursing through his body.
"So what are you gonna do about it?" Dixon seemed to come to live, his eyes sparkling with glee.
Jonathan looked up from the PADD.
What can I do?
Is this how I get to Eva?
04:30 AM
"I need to speak to your source"
"First answer me this" Dixon croaked. "It was fun, right?"
“What was? You kidnapping me and almost killing me to advance your plot in the Romulan senate? Planting implants in my head to spy on me and almost frying my brain? Constantly making me look over my shoulder, knowing you got some kind of sadistic joy out of harassing me for years? No Dixon, I can for sure tell you that I did not enjoy knowing you”
The old Section 31 leader smiled sadistically, but the smile seemed to falter as the PADD Jonathan held released a ping. Jonathan glanced down at the PADD and saw a text message appear over the screen.
-Ask him about Tobias-
04:31 AM
“Who’s Tobias?” Jonathan asked, more curious about who sent the message rather than the answer to the questions itself.
For the first time, Dixon doesn't answer or respond with a snappy retort. He just stares at Jonathan, and it's maybe the first time Jonathan has ever seen a truly human glint in Dixon's eyes.
The PADD pings again
-Ask him if Tobias would be proud of him-
“I wonder if Tobias would be proud of what you’ve made with your life” Jonathan asked, picking up that whoever was sending the message, the Source, knew a lot more about Dixon than Jonathan ever would, and was giving him the tools to really hurt his old nemesis. For now, he was in control again. And he found that he did have an appetite for it.
“That bitch doesn’t play around” Dixon said, you could almost hear sadness in his tone as he tried to regain his composure. “Perhaps once you are done with me, you can also find a way to get rid of her”. He sounded defeated. A tone Jonathan had never before associated with Dixon.
04:32 AM
“How long have I got? Around seven minutes, right?”
“At most, yes” Jonathan responded, his eyes still on the PADD, hoping that more would appear but that seemed to be it.
Who was the source? Who had Dixon so bent over their knee?
“You are unarmed Captain. How do you plan to murder me? A pillow to the face, I could barely fight back. Would be easy enough, but too hands on for someone like you I suspect….” his old eyes glanced at the dirty plate and silverware laying next to his bed “knife to the gut? Slow and painful?” Dixon seemed to study him. “I just don’t see it…you were maybe the butcher of the Tzenkethi back in the day….but I think you’ve seen enough blood”
“Possibly”
Dixon chuckled weakly “But you still have a damn good poker face, Captain Rome”
“Poker was never my game, Dix” Jonathan stood up and pulled at his jacket, drawing the eye of the old man.
04:33 AM
“I like the uniform though….very retro. Nice touch….you know you would have made a fine Section operative in your prime”
“I know” Jonathan pulled out a standard issue flux coupler, the two pronged tool lighting up as he activated it.
“I thought you said you were unarmed….now now Captain. Dishonesty?”
“This is not a weapon Dix...it’s an engineering tool, I heard there was a problem with a power relay”.
Jonathan smiled and stepped away from the old man, into the shadows behind his bed.
04:40 AM
He tapped his commbadge and tucked the PADD into his pants as he stepped out into the cool mist, and took a deep breath. He was done here.
“One to transport”
|
|